


Fool Me Again

by orphan_account



Series: Christmas 2015 Song Prompts [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Magic, Christmas, Christmas Prompts 2015, Exes Reunited, M/M, Malcolm as an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Malcolm left Felix a day after Christmas, Felix insisted he'd never crawl back to him. But sometimes things don't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool Me Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [z0mbieshake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/z0mbieshake/gifts).



> **Prompt:** Last Christmas  & Mallix by z0mbieshake

Felix felt the hand before he could bother to identify the pickpocket. He grabbed the intruder's wrist and held tight, spinning around to get a good look at his assailant, to either tell him to fuck off or break his nose.

"What the  _hell do you think you're-"_ Felix stopped, agape, at the pickpocket standing before him. Middle-aged, scruffy in the face, electric blue eyes… " _Malcolm?"_

The man blinked at him. "Do I kno-oh! Felix! Wow," A crooked grin slides up the man's face, his beard has a heavier peppering of grey. His brows twitch up, "I hardly recognize you. How long's it been? A year?"

"Almost." Felix said, tight-lipped, dropping Malcolm's wrist as though it were venomous. "A year on the 26th."

"You're awfully moody. Why's that?"

 _Is he serious?_ Felix blinked, stepping away in the crowded street. "You left me for your ex-wife. The day after Christmas."

And, Felix had to add in the secrecy of his own mind, the day after Malcolm stripped him of anything he'd have left to give: money, time, innocence, sobriety. But if Malcolm wasn't going to mention it, neither was Felix.

Malcolm shrugged. "If it's any consolation she's out of the picture again."

"Good," Felix said, glad to think of Malcolm alone in his crappy townhouse, getting high all by himself in the basement, out of money and out of people to steal from, except for passersby on the street.

From the way his eyes glistened, brow arching up again, Malcolm might not have understood Felix's intended connotation. Felix growled in spite of himself. Pivoting on his heels without another word he darted through the street, blinking away the snowflakes shinnying down from the sky.

The moment Felix thought he lost the man, he felt an arm snake its way around his shoulder, innocuous, almost innocent. " _Malcolm,"_ He growled.

"So what are you up to these days? Still into botany?"

"Not your kind." Felix grumbled, picking up Malcolm's hand and removing it from his shoulder.

"Pity." Malcolm said cheerfully, unphased by Felix's coldness. "Say, how about you and me head over to the Rabbit Hole? See what kind of holiday drinks they've got. What was that you liked so much last year? Naughty Candy Cane? Gingerbread Orgasm?"

In spite of himself, Felix shook his head and snickered under his breath. This was just like the Malcolm he remembered. "It's been five minutes, you haven't seen me in a year, and you're already trying to get me drunk."

"Sounds right," Malcolm winked, returning his hand around Felix - this time to his waist. "How 'bout it, for old time's sake?"

 _Old time's sake,_ Felix rolled his eyes.  _Old time's sake_ entailed being a complete idiot, falling into all of Malcolm's schemes, growing marijuana for him year round and barely getting any of the profit. He had to stay cold. If he let Malcolm in, Felix knew he'd fall headfirst all over again.

With Malcolm pulling on his arm, dragging him from one side of the sidewalk to the other, he knew he was already halfway there.

"So why haven't I heard from you all year long?" Malcolm asked, using a faux clumsy gait to bump their sides together.

"You left me for your wife."

_And left me without a nickel in the bank. Completely dependent on and enamored by you. You made sure you were my whole world and then turned your back on me because some bitch from California has millions in vineyards._

" _Ex_ -wife."

"Don't you think that's worse?"

Malcolm shrugged, continuing to bump their sides together. Felix did the safest thing he knew when it came to Malcolm: he kept his mouth shut.

"So, what are your plans for the holidays?"

Truthfully, by that point he'd been hoping by the end of December he could really stick it to Malcolm. Have somebody new in his life to follow and adore. Somebody who was actually consequential and actually worth the trouble.

But that far? No luck.

Felix didn't mind being alone. It was misery, but a bearable misery. He could function, but he lived to pour into other people; but he couldn't wait till the day he could walk by Malcolm's shitty townhouse with another man on his arm and never have to worry about handing him his beating heart to have it crushed moments later.

"Nothing, eh?" Malcolm asked. "What a coincidence!"

"No," Felix maintained. "I've got plenty to do."

"Sure you do. That's why you couldn't join me for a drink."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If you had something worth bragging about you would've jumped at the opportunity." Malcolm noticed the look on Felix's face and, sensing his victory, slid his lips into a sly grin. He giggled and clapped his hands together and said, sobering almost too quickly to be sincere. "You'd have good reason. By January I wanted you back every day."

 _He's lying,_ Felix had to remind himself. He couldn't listen to it, the words that were too good to be true, that he'd wanted to hear but couldn't allow himself to. "You never called."

"Would you have picked up?"

"No."

"And there you have it." Malcolm reasoned. "So, how about those drinks? It  _was_ Gingerbread Orgasm that you liked so much, wasn't it?

 

* * *

 

For the record, Felix knew he was being an idiot. When it came to drinks and Malcolm, there was only one possible endgame. It was only that nothing was working out as planned, but perhaps he'd be able to find something to make Malcolm feel awful about what he'd done.

That didn't work out.

Felix meant to remain cold and distant and make up some lie about how great he was doing and how he intended to spend the holidays with someone special. But one drink turned into two and Malcolm was his same self all night, flirting and leaning in to hang off Felix's every word as though he was more interested in drinking the conversation than his Naughty Candy Cane. And then, when he spoke, Felix couldn't even take solace from that: the weed business was going well, not as well as when Felix was cultivating it all with such care, but it's the perfect business for someone like Malcolm; a hobby for work and major profits. The electric bills were still going to his ex-wife's accounts and she still hadn't noticed the depletion from her accounts or at least from the alimony.

Malcolm chittered happily. "I'm untouchable."

"I thought you liked touching." Felix murmured, the smallest of slurs leaking out into his voice, but he knew what he'd said the moment he'd said it and wished he could gulp it back in.

"Oh, I do," Malcolm winked, lifting the peppermint stick from his cocktail and sucking on it without a lick of shame. "Just not so much in business."

Felix bolted down the last of his drink and, in the next few moments, found himself in a cab, seated next to Malcolm. The part of his brain that hadn't been exposed to gingerbread liqueur weeping out and appealing elsewhere:  _You were doing so well! After a whole year, Felix? Isn't this pathetic? Aren't you too drunk for this?_

But, frankly, two cocktails wasn't enough to affect him substantially. He'd rather be in the arms of someone who would at the very least make him feel good for five minutes than nobody at all. And he knew, even if he hung around the bar long enough, nobody would come around. Storybrooke's gay scene was extremely under wraps.

And so, letting Malcolm call a cab was the first concession of the night. When the Cajun cabbie announced himself as "Raymond but my friends call me Ray! Just a-how many stops on this loverly Christmas Eve?"

Felix surprised Malcolm, and maybe even himself, when he flung into the cab with a sharp, clear voice unaffected by the alcohol: "One."

 

* * *

 

Malcolm didn't actually kiss Felix till he locked and chained the front door. Felix had already turned around to take in the townhouse. Nothing had been repaired in the year since he'd left, there was still that crack in the window, but Malcolm had upgraded his entertainment center and furniture. Felix couldn't tell if business was just that much better or if Malcolm had taken full advantage of his ex-wife while he had her.

The thought evaporated a moment later, with Malcolm's arms around Felix's waist, slathering kisses on his neck, rubbing up his arms. "You feel like ice. My heat's shot-" Felix snickered thinking that, perhaps, the broken windows and cracks in the wall have something to do with overriding any insulation the place had to begin with. "But I have a space heater in my room."

Felix figured if he could see himself in that moment, he'd be disappointed. A whole year of improvement and getting to the point where he didn't think about Malcolm every day, whether in love or hatred, he'd been slowly becoming a non-entity, and he'd just gone back on all that in one night. Just because he'd caught the man trying to pickpocket him.

Swallowing the thought, Felix seized Malcolm's collar in both hands and walked backwards up the familiar winding stairs, knowing how to find Malcolm's room without looking, kissing up his neck and the fringes of his scruff.

He was almost there - one or two more stairs to go - when Malcolm's foot found its way in front of Felix's gait and the two went slamming down. The corner of the stair hit Felix's tailbone but the cry that came out might as well had been for the pleasure of finally covering Malcolm's mouth with his own.

Besides, he thought, feeling Malcolm's fingers flitter their way over the buttons on his jeans, there on the top of the stairs, he could always just forget Malcolm and find someone better the next year.


End file.
